Chapter 13

So much for all exams being done, and having loads of free time... My teachers have literally dumped a mountain of work on top of me. I have already had to do 2 exam questions for Geography. I literally just finished my exams! On the plus side, I just had my second driving lesson, and managed to drive all the way home (about a 15 minute drive on country roads) so I'm super pleased :)

A mixture of Belhadron and Faramir, and then Legolas and Aragorn, in this chapter. I would also like to point out that it is in this chapter that the clue to a tragic part of Belhadron's backstory, which I think I have mentioned to a few of you, is hinted at. See if you can guess what it is- the clue is in the second half of the chapter! I won't explicitly tell anyone what it is, but if you guess correctly... There is a oneshot being written of the event (at some point when I find more time).

Important announcement:

I am going away this weekend, and am away until Thursday- I'm actually going up to a university to do a residential science course, which should be great fun, but it means that I will be unable to publish on Tuesday like I normally would. So the next chapter after this will be on a week today.

Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

0-o-0-o-0

The woods were dark, only a weak light coming from the waxing moon above the branches. An owl scudded across the sky, and the elf below the boughs watched her pass over, knowing that she was watching him as well, and had, for the moment, decided to ignore him in favour of her hunt. The elf watched her go with a smile.

A slight noise came from behind him, and Belhadron turned his head to see Faramir step silently across the camp, coming to sit by him. Unfolding his legs and stretching them out in front of him, Belhadron looked over at the man.

"Sleep can be elusive," murmured Faramir with a wry smile, sitting cross-legged on the ground next to Belhadron. "It is all quiet?"

Belhadron concentrated for a brief moment, before nodding. "There are not Easterlings within…what I can see," he said. "Though deer eat two furlongs north."

Faramir chuckled slightly. "Good," he murmured. He sighed slightly, watching the dark forest by the slight light of the moon. He could see little at all, except the vague outlines of the trees and the sleeping bodies of the Rangers beneath them.

"You know the woods well," said Belhadron softly, his gaze not leaving the surrounding forest. Faramir nodded.

"I was in charge of the Rangers out here for a few years," he said. "We were mainly trying to observe movements of the enemy, know if there were orcs or men threatening Osgiliath and learning as much as we could about their movements and defences. But yes, I know these woods very well by now. "

Belhadron nodded, having spent a lot of time over the years doing the very same in Mirkwood. He glanced around him, at the woods surrounding them. It was quiet, but it was not silent. Belhadron could hear the soft rustle of the trees, the animals on the ground and birds in the branches. The woods felt young, he realised with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, younger than any woods he had ever known. Mirkwood had been dark and old, under the weight of hundreds of years of shadow. Eryn Lasgalen did not have that weight, but had not straightened yet, and the years could still be felt. Ithilien was young, relatively untouched by darkness, and it was a refreshing change.

The two of them sat in silence for a few more minutes, before Faramir looked over at Belhadron. "How long have you known Legolas?" he asked, and Belhadron, to his surprise, chuckled.

"Too many years," he replied with a swift grin. "A lot of my life. I cannot remember…the number." Belhadron's smile softened slightly. "I am his second. He is…I protect him, if I can."

Faramir nodded. "I would have guessed," he said. Belhadron looked at him questioningly, and Faramir elaborated. "When you first came into the city, you were on guard, and standing directly behind Legolas. You looked like it was your job to keep watch on him." He shrugged. "I noticed."

Belhadron inclined his head. "It is a hard thing to not do," he said. "I have used my life-"

"Spent your life," murmured Faramir, and Belhadron chuckled.

"Your tongue is…strange," he said with a smile. "I have spent my life watching the back of Legolas. It is a hard thing to stop, to…" He sighed in frustration. "You know. You know what it is."

Faramir frowned, and Belhadron spoke again. "If you saw me, then I saw you. Legolas said to me of Aragorn, and athelas. I watched you with Aragorn. I know…what it is to…to be…" He growled in frustration, and then said the word slowly in Sindarin, seeing if Faramir recognised in.

Faramir shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "Describe it."

Belhadron thought for a while. "Legolas saved my life," he said. "Aragorn saved your life. We are…" He sighed.

"Grateful?" asked Faramir. Belhadron shook his head.

"More. More than grateful."

"In debt?" Belhadron nodded suddenly, a grin coming across his face at managing to find the word.

"In debt," he repeated. "I know what it is to be in debt."

Faramir nodded, falling silent. It had been over a year since the day that Osgiliath had finally fallen, since that rout that had ended with a Southron dart in his shoulder, and still he felt indebted to the King for what he had done, for saving him.

"How did Legolas save your life?"

Belhadron, to Faramir's surprise, laughed at the question. "It is long," he said with a chuckle. "I cannot…my Westron is not good to speak of it. Legolas will say. But I hated him for it." He had, initially, been furious with Legolas for pushing him out of the way of an oncoming arrow and taking it in his own shoulder, and he had hardly known the blond elf, only as his Prince and someone he had trained beside for a short time.

But that was a story for another time, and Belhadron would not be able to tell Faramir the entirety of it with his limited grasp of the Westron tongue. "You hated him?" asked Faramir with a low chuckle. "What changed your mind?"

"He was stubborn," said Belhadron with a smile. Faramir chuckled at that, and Belhadron looked over at him, the corners of his mouth turned up and looking absolutely nothing like the deadly and slightly scary warrior he could be at times.

Faramir suddenly realised where he recognised the look on Belhadron's face. He had seen it on Boromir, when his brother had let down his guard occasionally. His smile dimmed, and Belhadron frowned slightly. "What is it?" he asked, his voice quiet.

Faramir shook his head with a wry and bitter smile. "You reminded me of my brother for a moment," he said. "Boromir. I don't know if…"

"Legolas spoke of it," Belhadron said. "He was a good man." He winced as he said it, knowing that words like that meant little, even less than words such as 'I'm sorry' which lost all meaning after a while. But Legolas had spoken highly of Boromir, of the man's courage, and courage in the face of inevitable defeat and hopelessness was something Belhadron respected immensely.

Faramir sighed. "He was headstrong and stubborn and foolhardy," he said with a smile. "But when it mattered, he was my brother, and I loved him for it." He leant back slightly and tipped his head back, looking up at the branches above them. "But he died with hope, and at least that hope has been fulfilled." He looked over at Belhadron. "My apologies," Faramir said softly, suddenly remembering that he had only known this elf for a few days at most, and Belhadron probably did not want to listen to him talk about his dead brother. "I did not mean-"

Belhadron cut him off. "It is not a problem," he said with a small smile. "A lot of people died. We do not forget."

Faramir paused for a moment, and then smiled, exhaling sharply with a shrug. "You are right," he said softly. The two of them fell silent, the quiet of the woods around them punctuated only by the soft sound of trees shifting in the slight breeze, and the occasional movement from the Rangers sleeping behind them.

Belhadron hummed slightly under his breath, before opening his mouth and beginning to murmur a soft song, the words too quiet for Faramir to hear, even if he could understand them. Around them everything seemed to still slightly, even the rustle of the trees, as if they were listening.

Belhadron shifted slightly beside him, and Faramir looked over to see him reaching up with one hand, fingers outstretched. A few moments later he heard the scurrying of clawed feet, and then could just see the movement of a squirrel running down the trunk of the tree Belhadron was leaning against.

Faramir watched as the elf laughed softly, his hand staying completely still as the squirrel edged towards it. Belhadron murmured under his breath, a few lyrical words that Faramir wished he could understand, and the squirrel closed the distance between itself and Belhadron's hand, touching its cheek to the elf's finger.

Belhadron laughed lightly again, and said something directed at the squirrel in the same flowing tongue. For a few moments they stayed like that, the squirrel just touching Belhadron's outstretched hand, and then the creature turned and ran back up the tree. Belhadron lowered his hand, and his gaze turned to Faramir.

"What?" he asked with a light grin. Faramir shook his head.

"How does it work?" he asked, his curiosity awakening once more. Belhadron had been able to tell Mablung was coming when Faramir was pretty sure there was no way the elf could have heard the movement of the Rangers from five furlongs away, and just now Faramir had watched a wild animal approach the elf with nothing but curiosity. He was willing to bet that Belhadron had known the smoke from the camp was there from something other than what he saw, as well.

"Is it some kind of magic?" he asked.

Belhadron frowned. "I do not know that word," he said. "What is it?"

Faramir opened his mouth, and then paused, trying to work out how to describe what magic was. Eventually he managed a fair enough description, and Belhadron nodded, saying the word in Sindarin, for such a word did not exist in Silvan at all. He suddenly laughed, quietly, but with a wry grin on his face.

"There is no magic," he said softly. "It does not…exist?" He frowned, unsure whether he had the right word, and Faramir nodded.

"Exist, aye," he said. "But still, there is something. I have read the lore that Gondor knows, and I know how elves are…close, for lack of a better word, to the rest of the world, but there is some type of magic there. We mortals cannot do the things that you can."

Belhadron shook his head. "It is not…magic," he said, the word unfamiliar on his tongue. "You know the world…how it was born?"

Faramir nodded. "A song sung by the Valar," he said. "A song that the lore says you can hear, if I am right." Gondor was a learned city, had been even more so in the past, and still the archives had tales of Illuvatar and the Valar if you knew where to look. The belief of how the world began was widely known amongst the people of the city.

Belhadron nodded. "There is a song," he said softly. "In all the trees, the mountains, all the streams and rivers. Every…" he sighed in frustration, and looked at Faramir. "Birds, horses, wolves…"

"Creatures?" asked Faramir, and Belhadron nodded.

"Every creature," he said, his gaze drifting to the canopy above them. "All I do is listen, and sometimes sing back."

0-o-0-o-0

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Legolas laughed lightly as they walked through the streets of Minas Tirith towards the lower levels. "You have asked that already," he said. "It has been a week, and my leg is good enough for sparring."

Aragorn sighed slightly. "Are you-?"

"You looked at the wound only a few minutes ago," said Legolas. "When I first asked. You said it was fine. You are the healer, mellon-nin, not me, and so I will simply have to trust your initial judgement." He reached up and shifted his cloak across his shoulders, tugging slightly at the strap holding his quiver in place.

Aragorn chuckled. He was ready to press Legolas further, worried a little about the elf's injured leg standing up against sparring, but then he noticed Legolas' slightly distracted gaze, and he knew that sparring could act as a rather good distraction from most things. He gently bumped shoulders with the elf.

"It's been a week," he said softly, stepping out of the way of a small group of soldiers walking up the street, who bowed to him as they passed. "Faramir will return in the next few days. Every message we've had through from Osgiliath has been good news."

Legolas smiled slightly, the corners of his lips turning up. "I know," he said. "But I still do not like it. I am used to Belhadron standing at my shoulder, not leagues away." He chuckled. "I am still not quite convinced that he has not actually been working for my father all this time. I asked him once, and he never actually denied it, merely switched the subject."

"I would not put it past Thranduil," said Aragorn with a smile. "But Belhadron is at home in somewhere like Ithilien. He will like it, I think."

"He will," said Legolas. "I think, after everything that happened in Mirkwood, the forests feel old. And I know that many are becoming a little tired, after so much war. Ithilien is young, and whilst not unscathed, has not lived under the shadow like Mirkwood did for so many years. It could work, Aragorn. It could work very well."

They stepped through a gate and down onto the second level of the city. It was past dawn, and the streets were busy, small markets and stalls lining the paved road. Legolas had flicked the hood of his cloak up to avoid too much attention, and the two of them walked down the street. The people who noticed that the man dressed in dark clothing and a leather overcoat with a grey cloak over his shoulders was in fact their King bowed low to him, and the murmurs spread quickly enough that Legolas, with a resigned smile at Aragorn, pulled back the hood of his cloak and tucked his blond hair behind one pointed ear.

"I don't think I will ever get used to this," said Aragorn with a wry smile as a group of men, from the looks of it soldiers off duty, bowed to him and Legolas. "I spent the majority of my life as nobody, and now I cannot walk down the street without people bowing."

Legolas chuckled slightly. "I do not know what to say to that," he said. "I grew up with this, if less, and with Belhadron to provide a rather amusing contrast. But I think you will become used to it, in time."

"I hope so," said Aragorn with a small smile. His hand drifted to rest on the hilt of his sword, and the familiar weight of it at his side was reassuring, even if he knew he did not have to use it, not for real.

The streets were busy, though people parted for them, standing to either side of the road. A young child shot out from behind a stall bearing dried cuts of meat, trailing a tattered ribbon in his hand. His legs kept going even when he realised that there were two people standing in his way, and he ran straight into Legolas' legs. The child fell backwards, a whoosh of air escaping his lips before he hit the stone floor.

Legolas and Aragorn both stopped in surprise as the young child promptly screwed up his face and burst into tears, sitting on the stones. Legolas froze slightly, and glanced with wide eyes at Aragorn.

Aragorn merely suppressed a chuckle and crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet so he was on level with the child. "Easy there," he said with a warm smile, picking the young boy up and standing him on his feet. The child had stopped crying in the sense that his mouth was shut, but still tears were coursing down his face.

Aragorn pulled on the cuff of his sleeve, and gently wiped away the tear tracks from the boy's face. "Are you alright?" he asked softly. The child nodded, his lower lip quivering slightly, and Aragorn smiled warmly at him.

There came a hurry of feet and then a woman bustled around the corner. "Halin, what are you-" She broke off upon seeing Aragorn crouched with her son, and a mother's worry and anger flashed across her face as she saw who she perceived as a strange man crouched in front of her son. She made to open her mouth and say something sharp, but then she saw Legolas, blond hair tucked back behind a pointed ear and watching the man crouched with her son with a smile.

Aragorn looked up at her, and the woman's mouth dropped in a gasp before she curtseyed low. "My King," she said in a rush, reaching forwards and scooping up her son. "I am so sorry my Lord, for my son, he's only three and I'm sure he didn't mean to-"

"Peace," said Aragorn, standing up with a soft smile. "Your son did nothing wrong." He bowed slightly to her. "Have a good day, my Lady," he said softly, and the woman curtseyed low, stepping out of their way. Legolas jogged a few steps to catch up with Aragorn.

"Since when were you so comfortable with young children?" he asked Aragorn, a small smile playing on his face. Aragorn shrugged slightly, with an answering smile, and looked over at Legolas.

"Since when were you not?" he asked. "You must have been around children at some point."

"Not much," replied Legolas. "Belhadron had a younger brother, but he was grown before I came to know Belhadron." There had been elven children in Mirkwood, but never many, and Legolas had tended to stay away from them, his duties almost never bringing him into contact with them. There had been many children in the aftermath of Smaug's attack on Laketown, but again, Legolas' part in that whole affair had merely been to fight, and he had never spoken to any of the children. Aragorn frowned in confusion.

"I thought you knew him all your life?" he asked.

Legolas shook his head. "I knew of him, as we trained together for a little while. But I didn't know him well until we were both over one hundred years old, I think."

"What happened?" asked Aragorn curiously. He knew that Belhadron was Legolas' most trusted friend in Mirkwood, had been for hundreds of years, as well as the blond elf's second and valued captain. He had just assumed they had known each other all their lives.

"I took an arrow meant for him, he hated me for it and I made him my second," said Legolas with a grin. Aragorn raised one eyebrow, and the elf laughed. "I speak the truth!" he said. "I knocked him out of the way of an orc's arrow, one of the few times we patrolled together, and took it in my shoulder. Belhadron was angry with me for doing so, and after about a few days I made him my second, because I knew he would not hesitate to tell me if I was wrong. From there, it was only a few months before he decided he would be at my shoulder most of the time."

"Why did you take an arrow for him?" asked Aragorn. "And why was he angry at you for it?"

Legolas shook his head. "I took an arrow for him because he would have been killed, and at the angle the orc was shooting, I knew I had a good chance at just being injured."

He chuckled. "As for why he was angry, I think it was because he thought I was being stupid, risking my life unnecessarily, and because I hadn't given him a chance to defend himself or do anything, just pushed him out of the way." He laughed. "I like to think he was worried as well, given the amount of times he came to check on me in the healing wards."

"Worried for you, or for what Thranduil would do to him?" asked Aragorn with a wry smile. Legolas laughed again, a merry sound, and Aragorn could see people's heads turning slightly to watch the elf.

"Probably fear of what my father might do, though he would never actually do anything. And after a little while he knew Thranduil well enough to know he is not all that he appears to be, not when he lets his guard down." Though it had been very entertaining whenever Belhadron was called in front of the King in the early years of their friendship, and Legolas had spent more than a few council meetings trying not to laugh as Belhadron stood uncomfortably behind his chair as his second.

They reached the ground level of the city, and Aragorn led Legolas through the winding streets and the city to the training grounds. An old grizzled man walked in amongst a group of younger boys, moving back and forth across the patched grass field. Wooden sticks clashed together, accompanied by the scuffing of feet and the occasional shout of their instructor.

Aragorn removed his cloak and let it fall to the ground, having care that the leaf brooch remained pinned to the grey fabric. Legolas did the same, placing his quiver on top, and removed his two hunting knives, spinning them idly in his hands as he watched the boys train.

"Geron will keep them away from us if we spar," said Aragorn, unsheathing the sword at his side. It was not Anduril, for the blade was a little too precious for merely sparring. This was the sword he had worn at his side for all the years that he was a Ranger, the hilt worn and moulded to his hand. "Are you sure that your leg will hold up?"

Legolas smiled wryly. "Aragorn, at the end of the Watchful Peace Belhadron and I rode out to the border with a group of ten elves, and between us we had one hundred and thirty two stitches holding various wounds together." Aragorn looked disbelieving, and Legolas nodded. "We counted. I can safely spar with a gash in my leg that is almost healed."

Aragorn shrugged slightly. "It's your leg," he murmured, but a swift grin came across his face, and he rolled his shoulders, loosening them up as they stepped onto the grass. Aragorn saw Geron, the training master, look their way and he nodded at him, raising his sword slightly. Geron easily guessed what they were doing and nodded, turning his attention back to the boys in front of him once more.

Legolas spun the knives in his hands once more, before stepping out onto the grass with Aragorn. He tested his wounded leg, jumping on it a few times, thrusting forwards with one knife and his weight on the leg. "It's fine," he said with a smile.

Aragorn nodded, and the two of them began to slowly circle each other, trading blows. This was merely a warm up, loosening their muscles. Legolas thrust with both his knives, and Aragorn parried the blow and spun them away with his sword. They stepped around each other again, and this time it was Aragorn that lunged forwards, Legolas crossing his knives and catching the blade between them.

After a few minutes they pulled back from each other, Legolas sheathing his knives at his belt to plait again one of the braids in his hair that had come loose. Aragorn, having shed his leather coat, stepped forwards.

"Here, let me," he said, and Legolas tilted his head to one side to allow Aragorn to put the braid back in his hair. He chuckled.

"I'm surprised you can still remember how to do these," he said with a smile. Aragorn laughed softly.

"I grew up in Imladris," he said, grinning at fond memories. "If you learn anything from having two elven foster brothers, it is how to braid elven hair." His fingers worked deftly through the long blond hair until he finally tied off the braid at the end. "Ready to go?" he asked.

Legolas nodded, pulling his knives from his belt and stepping further into the middle of the green. "We may have an audience," he said with a merry smile, his eyes glancing to the group of young boys who were now watching them more than each other or even Geron. It was a feat indeed to draw their attention from the training master, because Aragorn knew his reputation. It reminded him of Glorfindel, a little, when the elf-lord had taught him. He had been terrified.

"We must not disappoint, then," he said to Legolas with a wry smile. The two of them circled each other for a few moments, each of them feinting forwards and then stepping back once more.

Legolas lunged forwards, and the dance began.

To Be Continued...

This was me trying to explain how I think elves work with nature. I'm not sure how well I succeeded, so if you have any questions, feel free to drop in! Also, that bit with the squirrel I found absolutely ADORABLE to write! If I could draw, and was in any way artistic, I would absolutely draw that image for you guys- Belhadron reaching up to the squirrel in the tree :)

Again, a reminder: next chapter will be next Friday. As always, reviews are very welcome :)